


Unfathomable

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [36]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dumbledore's Army, Grab a hankie, Post Cyberwoman, Team Torchwood's Remorse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-30 06:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto's friends show up to take care of him, and learn just what Ianto lost, at Canary Wharf.  As he spins out in his grief, Owen and Jack show up to help.





	Unfathomable

Jack reached out and drew Toshiko into a hug as she let out a small sob. “We’ll make this right, I swear it.”

“How?” she asked again.

“He needs to survive this despair,” Owen pointed out, though not unkindly. He saw it as a bit of a dilemma, actually, but also as a puzzle to solve. Ianto was in his care, now, and he was damned if he’d let the kid self-destruct over this.

As they spoke, Gwen joined them.

“That’s why the suspension is four weeks,” Jack replied. “He needs time to grieve, and to heal. And when he gets back, he’s going to be a proper part of this team.”

As they nodded their agreement, the camera in Ianto’s flat picked up a knock. The bedroom camera showed Ianto stir, but settle back, calling out, “Go ‘way.” 

After two more knocks, the door opened.

“What the hell?” Owen asked, as they watched.

“Nif? I’m coming in.” A willowy blond woman with a musical voice stepped into the flat, followed by a tall man with white blond hair and narrow features. “I have the key you gave me, so don’t panic. Draco’s with me. Are you up?”

“Tosh?” Jack prompted, and Toshiko started typing.

“He sent a text yesterday afternoon to someone in his contacts list called ‘Moon-Bug’,” she smiled sadly. “She tried to call him and texted him, as well.” She chuckled as she scrolled through Ianto’s contacts. “He seems to have nicknames for almost everyone in here. ‘Brown Sauce’, ‘Gin-Gin’, ‘Hermy-ninny’, ‘King Wease’, ‘Short Pants’, ‘Wheezey’.” 

“School mates,” Owen chuckled. “Nowhere else do you find nicknames, like that. And what did she call him? Snif?”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“What?” Jack asked.

“He never deleted,” she sniffed. “Lisa, Soren, all of his friends from One are still in here.”

“Christ,” Owen muttered, still half-watching Ianto’s two friends enter his bedroom. 

The man knelt next to the bed and was speaking in a low voice. They could not hear what he was saying. The woman was sitting on the bed, running a hand through Ianto’s hair.

“Don’t be cross, Nif, but the others are coming, in a bit. Let’s get you up, and I’ll fix you some tea and toast while you shower and dress.”

“I was told to sleep,” Ianto grumbled. “Make up your bloody minds, will you?”

Luna went into the bathroom and filled a glass with water.

“You need fluids,” Draco replied. “Dehydration sucks. You can sleep more, once you eat.”

Luna handed Draco the glass, and he seemed to fumble with it before helping Ianto to drink. Then they got him out of bed. Luna headed for the kitchen, and Draco followed Ianto to the bathroom door.

“Mer…” he caught himself. “Did you stop eating when you moved from London?”

“Pretty much,” came the candid reply. “Always queasy.” He gave Draco a dark look. “You’re not going to watch,” Ianto snarked.

“You look unsteady.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ianto stepped around him and entered the bathroom. His concession was to leave the door partially cracked. “I’ll call you if I fall over, yeah?”

The camera angle was meant to provide a bit of privacy, but there was little enough to be had, as Ianto stripped and showered. Once dry, he put the pyjamas and t-shirt back on before returning to his bedroom and grabbing a hoodie from a dresser drawer. He hesitated, then took something out of the top drawer. He seemed to kiss it before putting it into his pocket.

Draco sat beside him on the sofa, his arm around him. He looked at Ianto, who was staring blankly at the back of the television. He reached up and rubbed Ianto’s neck. Luna brought in a mug of tea and two slices of toast cut in half and spread with honey.

Ianto shook his head as she handed him the plate.

“Just a few bites, Nif. Ms. Molly might be coming by, and she’ll never forgive me if she thinks I didn’t try to get you to eat.”

Ianto’s shoulders slumped, and he picked up a half-slice of toast. Draco gave a small smile and wink at Luna over his head.

“She fights dirty,” Owen muttered as Tosh nodded her approval.

Ianto drank about half the tea and ate half of the half before giving up. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“That’s all right, Nif. We’ll try again, with lunch,” Luna put an arm around him and hugged him.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” he asked, his voice somewhere between resignation and annoyance, though there was something warm underneath, as well.

“Ianto, you’re our friend, and we love you. You’ve isolated yourself for months, but now enough is enough. We’re going to help you through this.”

“And if there’s no ‘me’ left to help?” he asked quietly. “I… I’m not sure I actually survived what happened in London.” He rolled his eyes, “The _terrorists_,” he added, for the benefit of those watching, who were taken aback by his statement.

She hugged him. “You need to rest. And grieve. You’ll feel more yourself once you start taking care of yourself, again.”

Draco wrapped an arm around him. “I’ll be back in the morning, Nif.” He kissed his temple. “You’re going to get through this.”

Ianto leaned into the hug and kiss, then straightened as Draco rose and left. Within minutes, others began to arrive. Tosh, Jack and Owen gaped as Ianto’s flat filled with men and women about the same age as Ianto. There were now eleven visitors, in all.

Neville took Draco’s seat beside Ianto on the couch, an arm wrapped protectively around him as the others leaned over the sofa to embrace him from behind or hugged him as Luna rose to make room for them. She headed to the kitchen. “A little help, George?”

“What is it?” he asked, following her into the kitchen. 

She gestured to the counter, where there was one plate, one knife, one fork, one spoon, and one mug drying on a towel from Ianto’s breakfast. “That’s all he ever bothered to unpack.”

There was something very sad and lonely about that. George huffed and tried to ignore the camera looking over his shoulder. “Well, if I know Nif, he’s got those boxes labelled. And we know that he has enough mugs for us all.”

Luna gave a sad smile as she filled the electric kettle. “I’m worried about him.”

George paused in his search through the boxes. “I know. We all are.”

“Did you notice? He’s leaning into every hug, like he’s been starved for touch. I don’t think anyone has touched him kindly since before…” She shut the water off and set the kettle on its base and turned it on. “Do you remember? He was always so tactile. Loved hugs and cuddles, right up until…” she huffed. “It’s like a dividing line. Before that day, and after.”

“Makes sense.” George opened the box they needed and began unwrapping mugs, handing them to Luna to rinse. “That’s the day I lost Fred.” His shoulders slumped. “And nothing will ever be the same, again.”

She reached out and cupped his cheek. “And Ianto hasn’t liked hugging as much, since.” She wondered if it was to do with the curse, and not for the first time, wished they could talk to him about it. “And now he has another before and after day. Maybe two.” She sighed again. “I’m worried about him.”

“Hey,” George wrapped an arm around her and hugged her. “Nif is the strongest of all of us. He’ll find his way. We’ll make sure of it.”

Luna sniffed and straightened, nodding.

Once the water was boiled and the mugs set out, she looked into the refrigerator. “Oh. Looks like his coworkers did some shopping for him. Bless.” She handed George the milk to set out next to the sugar and honey and tea things.

She huffed. “Well, I suppose it’s nice they tried,” she added dryly.

“What?”

“Apples.”

“Seriously? He _hates_ apples.”

“I’m sure they meant well. We’ll set them out for the others. Wait!” she gasped. “Dear God, are they trying to kill him?” She pulled a mango out and handed it to George. “Go throw this away outside, please.”

“Well to be fair, I suppose it’s not something that would come up in conversation,” George said as he took the offending fruit and left. 

“He’s allergic to mangoes?” Jack asked, grateful that Ianto’s friends were there.

Luna told everyone that the tea things were ready. No one really made a move. They were all milling around, speaking quietly with one another. Harry, Ron and Hermione were subtly disguised. Hermione was sitting on Ianto’s left, with Neville still holding onto him on his right. Ron was sitting on the coffee table, holding one of his hands.

“Can you tell us what happened, Nif?”

It seemed to take ages for Ianto’s eyes to focus on Ron. Then he closed them and shook his head.

“Well, what about London? How about you tell us about that?”

“Ron!” Hermione hissed.

Suddenly Ianto was lurching off the sofa and rushing down the hall. He barely made it to the bathroom before casting up what little he had eaten. His body continued to heave long after it had finished ejecting his small meal. He was collapsed against the wall next to the toilet when he heard someone lower the lid and flush. Next he felt a cool cloth being run over his face. He looked up and saw Ron there.

“I’m sorry, mate,” he said.

Ianto sniffed. “Not your fault.”

Ron helped him to his feet and he brushed his teeth before heading back into the living room. Luna handed him a glass of water, which he sipped carefully. He noted the taste of something – possibly something for nausea. He looked and saw that Hermione had her handbag with her – probably had a cauldron of something brewing in there, knowing her. 

“Just a bit of ginger,” she smiled.

He returned her smile and took another sip before setting the glass down. He went over to the mantle and looked at the picture for a long time before reaching out and placing it face down on the surface. His fingers found the other picture that had been lying beneath the frame.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you all,” he began quietly, still facing the mantle, looking down at the picture in his hands. “The day before…” he cleared his throat, “before Canary Wharf fell. I took Lisa out to dinner, to celebrate. She’d been to the doctor, see.” He held up the picture, then looked at it again. He turned around and looked at his friends. “We were going to have a little girl.”

Jack felt like he had been punched in the gut. Owen was swearing at the top of his lungs. Gwen and Tosh were holding onto one another as they began crying.

Ianto’s friends looked stricken. Several were crying as he tossed the ultrasound photo down onto the low table in front of the couch. “Lisa wasn’t showing much, yet, but…” he smiled at the memory. “She was so _beautiful_. We went out to dinner, and,” he reached into his pocket and dropped the sapphire ring onto the table, on top of the photo. “I asked, and she said yes.”

Ianto was eerily calm as he told his friends what should have been the happiest news of his life. He sniffed as he went on. “The next morning, Lisa wanted to call in sick and stay in bed. Continue celebrating.” His face went hard and angry. “I told her our boss would have our heads. We were taking off for the weekend, so I convinced her it’d be better to go in.”

“Oh, God,” Tosh whispered.

“It’s my fault,” Ianto muttered.

“No, Ianto,” Hermione took his hand. “Your roommate didn’t make it because whatever it was spilled out from Canary Wharf. It probably still would have happened, if you’d stayed home.”

Ianto was shaking his head. “But if I’d been at home, I’d have had my w…” he bit off the word. “My wits about me,” he amended, surprised his sluggish mind had been able to make the correction. His friends knew what he’d been about to say, of course. He could have defended himself, and Lisa, if he’d had his wand. “Or at least we’d have died together,” he whispered.

“We need to get over there, now,” Owen told Jack, reaching for his bag. “He’s about to melt down. And he’ll never forgive himself if he turns violent and hurts one of his friends.”

“Keep the comms open so we can hear what’s happening,” Jack told Toshiko as he and Owen ran from the hub.

“Oh, Gods,” Ianto clapped a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. His friends seemed to sense that they should not touch him. When he dropped his hand, he looked around, his eyes wide. “I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t save either of them.”

He looked up, his expression wild. “They’re dead because of me,” he whispered, horrified. 

Before his friends could react, he vaulted over the sofa and was making a break for the door. George, back from his mango disposal duty, caught him in an embrace. “It’s not your fault, Nif,” he tried to soothe.

Neville and Luna joined the embrace. Ianto struggled, trying to break free, but he was not willing to use enough force that he might harm one of them. He began screaming. 

_“NOOOOOOOO!”_

Hermione managed to perform the _muffliato_ spell so neighbors would not be disturbed. 

Most of the group ended up on the floor as Ianto screamed his throat raw. He kept roaring, even after his ruined voice refused to continue cooperating. His friends just held him close and allowed him to let out his pain and anguish. Their own tears flowed as he begged them to just let him die.

Tosh and Gwen continued to cry as they broadcast over the comms what the camera was picking up. Jack and Owen listened to their teammate’s anguished screams as Jack drove like a maniac to reach Ianto’s flat. Owen braced himself against the door to try to keep upright as Jack made the final turning and finished preparing the strong alien sedative that would help to calm Ianto without knocking him unconscious. His hope was that it would allow Ianto to process his grief without continuing to be overcome by it.

Angelina opened the door at Jack’s knock. He did not notice that Ianto’s screams could not be heard from the hallway. After all, they were being broadcast through his comms, so it simply did not register. Owen knelt beside the knot of people holding Ianto and they slowly pulled apart, allowing the doctor a look at his teammate. Ianto’s face was screwed up in pain, and Owen suspected it was physical pain as well as anguish. He was still screaming, though his cries were raspy and ineffectual, now that he’d shouted his voice away.

“All right, matey. We need to get you calmed down,” he said. He pulled one of Ianto’s arms loose from one of the three people still holding onto him and, foregoing the alcohol swab, simply gave him the injection in his upper arm. His hand trailed down Ianto’s arm to his hand, which he held as he watched the brew take effect. He checked Ianto’s pulse, which was slowing from an alarming rate to something a bit calmer. 

He looked around. “How about we get him onto the sofa. He’ll be more comfortable.”

Jack stepped forward and picked Ianto up as the others moved boxes around and shoved the sofa against the far wall. Several went into the spare bedroom and came back with enough pillows and cushions and blankets that everyone could sit comfortably around the living room.

Once Jack lay Ianto on the sofa, Luna sat close to his head and he curled up into a ball, hugging his knees. She pulled his head into her lap, carding her fingers through his hair. He was shaking, staring blankly ahead, eyes unfocused. Owen knelt before him and checked his eyes. “He’s in shock again,” he said. “Or, more likely, still. The sedative will help. He’ll still be able to process, and grieve, but it’ll keep him from spinning out and hurting himself or someone else.”

“Ianto would never hurt us,” Luna said with a quiet certainty that had Jack looking at her. “Just now, he wanted to get away, _needed_ to get away from us, but he knew if he struggled he’d hurt one of us.”

Jack nodded. He thought of Owen and Gwen holding Ianto on the invisible lift. He could have easily made them all overbalance – could have sent them plummeting to the hub floor and gotten back to Lisa. But he hadn’t done that. He hadn’t risked harming his teammates, despite his desperation.

“I understand, believe me,” Owen said. “But his condition was deteriorating to a place where he might have lost that control.”

“You lot are watching him, aren’t you? You’re filming him,” Seamus looked resentful and pointed at the camera in the living room.

“We are,” Jack answered. “It seemed like the best thing. We were trying to give him space, but still keep an eye out. We know we’re probably the last people he wants to see, right now.”

“What the hell happened?” Ginny asked, curious as to what cover story Torchwood would come up with. “Lisa was injured months ago, and we find out she died two days ago, but Ianto looks like he’s been beaten to a pulp and exposed to some sort of chemical accident,” she pointed at his hands.

“Oh, I might have something to soothe that,” Hermione said, reaching for her bag.

“We were moving Lisa to a different facility. Ianto was riding in the back of the ambulance with her, when it was broadsided by a lorry that had run a light. She succumbed to her injuries, and Ianto was injured, as well.”

As stories went, it was about as respectful and inoffensive as could be expected. Some of the chill from the group thawed, and they all introduced themselves, careful to only give their first names.

“Why are you the last people he’d want to see, right now?” Hannah asked, also curious how they would answer.

“I was driving the ambulance, Owen was the one to suggest the transfer,” Jack was watching Ianto. “We all had a hand in what happened. It would be natural for him to blame us. I hope he’ll be able to get past that, once he’s able to grieve his losses.”

“Did you know?” Susan asked quietly. “About the child?”

Jack shook his head. “He called Lisa his girlfriend. We didn’t know they were engaged.”

“She didn’t remember,” Ianto said, his voice cracked and broken. He spoke as though from very far away.

“What’s that, Nif?” Neville was sat next to the sofa, holding one of Ianto’s hands. Hermione handed him a pot of cream from her bag, and he began gently applying it to Ianto’s raw skin.

Ianto blinked slowly. “She didn’t remember being pregnant, or us getting engaged. She had big blanks in her memory, going back a few months.”

“Probably a defense mechanism, because of the trauma,” Owen said quietly.

“I was finally going to have a family,” Ianto’s voice was almost too quiet to hear.

“Oh, Nif,” Luna sighed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“We’ll always be your family, Ianto. And you’ll always be ours,” Neville quietly promised.

Ianto nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Shut up, Nif,” Seamus said roughly. “We know what you were saying. But hopefully you know what we’re saying, too.”

“Never doubt that you are loved, Ianto,” Hermione whispered.

Unable to accept her words, Ianto shook his head, closing his eyes tightly and curling further in on himself. He threw and arm over his head and hid from their words. Luna kept a hand on the back of his head and Neville kept one on his back, but otherwise they made no attempt to interfere with his silent grief.

Jack reached out and took the hand Ianto had thrown over his head, now resting on the arm of the sofa. He gave it a squeeze, surprised when Ianto held on to him for a moment before letting go. “We’ll check back in tomorrow.”

“Here,” Owen pulled out a card. “Please call if you think he needs help. I’m his doctor.”

“We will,” Luna answered kindly. She looked from Owen to Jack and her expression became abstract. She saw something in Jack – something neither he nor Ianto would likely recognize, at the moment – and she understood that he cared. “At least one of us will stay with him until he’s feeling more himself.”

Harry had told them that morning that Kingsley had been horrified by what had happened, and had as a special assignment authorized Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Luna to stay with Ianto in whatever shifts they chose, for as long as it took until the danger had passed. The others would fill in as needed, but his Ministry friends would take the brunt of his care as a part of their duties over the next month or so.

Jack looked around the room, frowning. “But… won’t that interfere with your work, or your families?”

“Ianto _is_ family,” Neville answered quietly. “We’ve neglected him terribly, and it’s come to this. But no more.”

Jack saw resolute nods all around, and he gave a sigh of relief. He knew that Torchwood’s small team could not watch Ianto as closely as he needed, right now. And watching from the hub was not ideal, if something went wrong. He was glad Owen had recognized the meltdown brewing, but it had still taken far too long to provide Ianto with any relief.

Owen stepped past Jack and took Ianto’s hand. “Just call if you need anything, Ianto. We’ll come running.”

Jack noted with surprise that Ianto’s hand had stayed slack in Owen’s. He felt a flush of warmth at the thought that Ianto had allowed him to provide a small measure of comfort. In the next moment, they left. As they reached the SUV, Owen shook his head.

“What a mess,” he muttered. “He buried his grief for the child. Didn’t allow himself to even acknowledge the loss, because he still had to focus on taking care of Lisa.”

“Now it’s all hitting him, all at once,” Jack replied, dragging a hand over his face. “And even worse, he blames himself.”

“That’s the part that scares me,” Owen replied.

***

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of maybe three pieces that has ever made me cry as I've written it. 
> 
> In the obligatory post-Cyberwoman fics, Ianto is either hyper-rational and accepting the likelihood of his execution, or suicidal. The more emotionally vulnerable versions of Ianto are generally the ones to be suicidal, and while I have certainly written that version of Ianto, the Niffler version of Ianto is not that guy. So for our Niffler to be suicidal, it had to be a combination of devastating losses and the shame of what had happened.
> 
> I can't claim to have read all of the post-Cyberwoman fic out there, but I've read an awful lot, and I've only seen this idea of a lost child in one other fic, ladyflowdi's brilliant "The Dominant Line Between Life and Death" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/940856). It is absolutely poetic. Highly recommend, if you haven't already read it.
> 
> I know this one was brutal, but hope you'll stick with me. Jack and Ianto's friendship will grow out of these ashes.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
